


Always Here

by ayybeary (orphan_account)



Category: Free!
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Car Accidents, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Shinigami
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 09:02:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5200043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ayybeary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It happens all at once, but yet, he sees it in slow-motion.  The car was going too fast, the traffic light was yellow, the wind was always stronger in the city.  There was snow on the ground, the crosswalk was still red, and Makoto’s hat blew off of his head as he stood on the corner.</p><p>Makoto dies on New Year's Eve, and before he can cross over, he needs to make sure that Haru can go on without him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always Here

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first real actual fanfic in a really long time, and I'm really excited to show it to you guys!! Please, PLEASE, let me know what you like and don't like about the fic, what you hope to see... anything! I'd rather have constructive criticism than silence.
> 
> This fanfic was heavily influenced by Photograph by Ed Sheeran, and the title is the English trabslation of my favorite MakoHaru duet song~
> 
> Thank you, and I hope you enjoy!

It happens all at once, but yet, he sees it in slow-motion. The car was going too fast, the traffic light was yellow, the wind was always stronger in the city. There was snow on the ground, the crosswalk was still red, and Makoto’s hat blew off of his head as he stood on the corner. The driver shouldn’t have run the light, it was New Year’s Eve, Tokyo was full of people, and the roads were slick with snow. Makoto should have known better than to go after his hat, but Haru knit it just for him, for Christmas.

He didn’t even feel it, he realized. One second he stood in the road, illuminated by headlights, hat in his hands. The next second he stood next to the car, watching the driver get out, phone in his hands, yelling. He stood still for a second, watching everything happen as if it were on a movie screen. Police cars arrived, followed by an ambulance, and a crowd begins to form as a policeman finally starts directing traffic. People on the street look shocked, scared. People in cars look curious, angry. Makoto doesn’t understand what’s happening, not until he sees his body.

Makoto briefly wondered if that was what an out-of-body experience felt like. He could see it, his body, even though he stood next to the car. He—his body—laid on a stretcher, connected to an IV, that was shoved into the back of the ambulance. One of the police officers began to rummage through his coat pockets, and Makoto wanted to call out. He was right there, could no one see him? The officer pulled out his wallet, looked at his ID, wrote something down on a clipboard. The weight of the situation hit him like an anvil.

The driver spoke to a policeman, his hands were shaking and his eyes were glassy, like he was trying not to cry. There was a dent in the car, and blood on the ground. Next to the dark snow laid a green knit hat. Makoto felt his head spin, and he took a step back, as the realization fully set in. He went after the hat, and the car hit him. The hat laid forgotten in the middle of the road, dirty with blood, grimy snow and spilled coffee. They put him in the ambulance. They gave him oxygen, though, so maybe—

“HOOOOOO boy, is this a mess!” a random voice suddenly called out behind him. Makoto whipped around, and saw another man behind him. He was shorter than Makoto, leaner, but he didn’t seem any smaller. His hair was red like the snow near Makoto’s feet and his eyes burned like hot coals, but other than that, he looked normal. Makoto opened his mouth to speak, but the stranger interrupted.

“Looks like you’re not dead, yet, though, which makes this really awkward. Ok, so—“

“Who are you?” Makoto interrupted right back.

The stranger laughed, slow and tired. He put his hands in his pockets. “Now, see, if you just let me finish my sentence—they never let me finish my sentence. So rude.” The stranger looked at Makoto and saw his clenched jaw, his balled-up fists. “Alright, alright. I’m Rin. I’ve got a girly name, but I’m a guy. I’m also a shinigami. And you, Makoto, are dead. Almost. Rather, you will be, and soon.”

Makoto stared at him for a long minute as the words clicked in his head. Just like he hoped, he wasn’t dead yet. Maybe he could make it to the hospital, maybe he could get back into his body somehow, maybe everything would be okay—

“Oi! Were you not listening to me!? I can see it on your face, you think you can just jump right back in, dontcha? Too late for that, or else you wouldn’t be looking at me.”

The stranger, Rin, took a few steps closer, and Makoto took a few steps back in response.

“Okay, okay, I get it. It’s a scary thing for humans, dying, but it happens to everyone eventually, so… What I mean to say is, what’s done is done, so you can’t just—“

“What’s taking so long, Brother?”

Makoto startled at the sound of another voice, and he looked over to find a woman standing next to Rin. Her eyes were the same red color, and her hair was only a few shades lighter. Even in a ponytail, her hair reached down to her middle back. While Rin’s outfit looked like he walked out of a fashion magazine, the woman’s outfit looked more professional and businesslike.

“Gou! Look, he just, he’s not dead yet, so he’s having trouble keeping up.”

“It’s Kou. He’s not dead yet? Ahh, jeez, do they ever give us a break?”

Makoto looked between Rin and Gou—Kou?—who he assumed was Rin’s sister. Did shinigami have sisters?

“I’m sorry, but, can someone please tell me what’s actually going on?” Makoto spoke up, taking a step forward. “Who are you two? Why are you here? Why is this happening, why didn’t I just… die?”

Rin looked like he was about to answer, but his sister spoke over him. Makoto briefly thought it must be a family thing. “Sorry! I’m Kou, Rin’s sister. To put it simply, Makoto, you’re dead. Maybe not right now, but I don’t think you’ll make it past the ER, honestly… Anyways! The reason you didn’t just die and reincarnate is ‘cause your spirit decided it had to hang on for some reason? This is hardly the place to talk about it, though, right? Let’s do this in my office.”

Makoto barely had the time to be shocked that shinigami had offices before he was suddenly standing in one. He yelped at the sudden change of setting, and Rin motioned for him to take a seat in one of the chairs. Rin sat in the other one, and Kou took the desk chair.

“So. Humans die. When humans die, their souls either reincarnate or get sent to purgatory. No worries for you, though! Only really terrible souls get erased. Shinigami like Rin and I exist to find lost souls like you, who are still attached to Earth for some reason, and get you back into that cycle.”

Kou leaned to the side of her desk, where she opened a drawer and rummaged around. After a few seconds, she pulled out a neatly stapled packet and slid it across the desk to Makoto. The front page clearly read, in big bold letters, SO, HEY! YOU’RE DEAD!, and Makoto felt his stomach sink.

“I guess you could say we’re your case workers. Now! Some souls make it really easy, and they know right away what it is keeping them attached. Attachments can be anything, really, like an item that needs to be found, but most of the time it has to do with the people they’re leaving behind. Sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s bad. Do you have any idea what could be keeping you from passing on, Makoto?”

Makoto jumped when the attention moved back to him, and he instantly thought of Haru. They were supposed to meet for dinner, and then they were going to visit a temple. Haru would try to get grilled salted mackerel afterwards, but Makoto would convince him to have udon instead. He felt like all the air was punched out of his lungs.

“Ah, it’s gotta be his lover, Gou, look at his face. We’re gonna have to do some gooey sad moving-on thing on New Year’s Eve. How fucking romantic.” 

“It’s Kou! And shut up, Brother, this isn’t our first rodeo, but this is a serious moment for Makoto-kun.”

“Where is he?” Makoto blurted out suddenly, and both of the siblings turned to look at him. “You know, right? Can you teleport us there? I have to see him.”

Kou and Rin both stared at him long and hard before Kou finally sighed. “I can take you there, Makoto, but… please remember, you’re dead. He won’t be able to see you or hear you. If you touch him, he won’t feel it directly, but… doing that could make things harder for him.”

Makoto swallowed, feeling as if the whole planet got trapped in his throat. “Please,” he begged. “I know I’m dead, but… I have to see him. Please, take me to him.”

The next second, Makoto realized he sat in a hospital. The hallway was long and white, and he could hear telephones ringing and people walking quickly. This was the ER, he realized quickly, and he rose out of his chair. He walked around, trying to find any indication of where Haru might be.

“We issued a respirator to room 137 for Tachibana. I’m putting in an order to move him to the ICU.”

“I’ll let the family know.”

Makoto whipped around as soon as he heard his name. A nearby nurse and doctor went in two separate directions, and Makoto swore his heart beat faster. His family. He quickly chased after the nurse, who stopped in the doorway of a dark room. Makoto tried to peer inside, but the room was illuminated only by the dim blue light of the TV and he couldn’t see a thing.

“Nanase-san,” the nurse said. At her voice, Makoto saw a shape in the darkness move, and his eyes widened. “We’ll be transferring him to the ICU, I’ll let you know when we have the room prepared.”

The nurse walked off, leaving Makoto standing alone in the doorway of the dark room. He took a few steps inside and stopped.

There, next to his unconscious form, sat Haru in an uncomfortable hospital chair. His face was dark, but Makoto could see the worry lines in his forehead. Haru looked ten years older, and while his face looked as blank as ever, it was clear as day to Makoto that Haru was tired and scared.

“Haru—“ he began.

“Makoto,” Haru interrupted. His voice was strained, gravelly, on the verge of crying. “Makoto. If you can hear me… please, please… please wake up.”

Haru had never sounded so broken, even when he was depressed and worried about his future in high school. In that moment, Makoto thought that maybe Haru did age ten years. Maybe ten years of his life slipped away, forgotten like the knit green hat, when he found out his husband would never wake up again, would never breathe without a machine.

For the first time, Makoto let it really sink in. He was dead. Even though his body breathed and his heart beat, he was dead. Kou was right, Makoto didn’t make it past the ER, because there he was, the only part of him that really counted as him, watching as his husband sat still in a dark room only illuminated by the dim blue light of a forgotten TV. Makoto was literally as good as dead, and he knew then that he wouldn’t be able to pass on until he knew Haru would be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Add me on tumblr at my main, [daverystrider](http://daverystrider.tumblr.com), or my writing blog, [asahismanbun](http://asahismanbun.tumblr.com). You can also find me on twitter @daverystrider !!!


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